


Small Confidences

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Blowjobs, Longing, Lust, M/M, Missing Scenes, Motivational Speeches, Pining, handjobs, quiet feelings in the dark, s2 fic, series 2 fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 04:06:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11478255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: A scene following the end of 201





	Small Confidences

They’ve been given a small storeroom off in the main hold, partly because it’s easier to keep an eye on them if they’re contained, and partly because Dufresne is making a point by claiming the captain’s cabin, reminding them that they’re not part of the crew anymore.

It’s petty, but Flint had expected no less.

Now though he stands in the doorway, surveying the sight he’s just walked in on.

“Why are you naked?”

Silver doesn’t even turn around. “Did you expect me to stay in the Spaniard’s disguise forever?”

Flint shrugs and closes the door behind him. “I hadn’t given it much thought to be honest.” He’s had other things on his mind. It’s been a very long day.

He glances at Silver again as he makes his way over to the corner, just a quick look. Silver’s not hiding anything, not remotely self-conscious of his body, clearly not caring if Flint looks or not.

Flint sinks down on the straw pallet in the corner and touches his bloody bandage with a wince. Now that he’s given in and admitted how exhausted he is, his entire body is  _done_. He wants to sleep for a hundred years.

He leans his head back and closes his eyes, taking in a low breath, touching his chest again.

Silver looks over at him. “Is it bothering you?”

“No, it makes me feel like I could have taken on the whole crew of Spaniards by myself.” Flint mutters without opening his eyes.

Silver’s laugh is quiet but definitely there. Flint opens his eyes at the sound of it, watching Silver as he leaves the discarded pile of clothes on the floor and reaches for his own. Silver moves easily while nude and Flint finds his gaze arrested by the sight of him.

Bare-assed and barefoot, tangled curls and tan chest, Silver is lithe and appealing. Flint watches him in silence as he picks up his shirt.  

He keeps his head leaned back, gazing half at the ceiling, half at Silver. It’s probably the exhaustion that’s causing this laxness in his own rigidity. Usually he wouldn’t let himself look at Silver like this.

But there Silver is, shirt over his head, the cloth falling over his chest and stomach, and there, Flint feels himself swallow reflexively at the sight of it, rests Silver’s cock.

Silver pulls his shirt down and glances at him again, then he pulls on his drawers. He leaves his breeches off for some reason and Flint doesn’t care to dwell on that.

He’s easing himself into lying stiffly on his back, trying to avoid jostling his wound as Silver approaches him.

“Move over.”

“Are you serious?” Flint stares up at him.

“Where else am I supposed to sleep?” Silver asks, exasperated.

The drawers do nothing to hide his cock. Flint looks away.

Silver raises an eyebrow and finally Flint sighs.

He shifts slightly so there’s room enough on the pallet for Silver as well who promptly stretches out next to him. He bumps Flint’s shoulder faintly.

“Watch it.” Flint growls, but there’s no strength in it. He’s too tired to threaten, too sick of the whole damn crew to practically even speak anymore.

“Sorry.” Silver murmurs. He’s still got that look in his eyes that Flint would call concern in anyone else. On Silver he doesn’t know what to call it.

It was how Silver had looked at him when Flint first woke on the beach. He didn’t know what to make it of then either. Now that he knows it was Silver’s hand that delivered him from the sea, he doesn’t know what to make of Silver altogether.

“Why did you?” Flint asks after they’ve been lying there side by side for a little while without speaking. The soft rocking of the ship upon the waves is almost enough to lull him to sleep, in spite of his aching shoulder. But Silver’s presence, warm and silent and there, is distracting. Not to mention the shape of his cock between his thighs.

Flint’s definitely exhausted if he’s thinking about Silver’s cock.

“Why did I pull you from the sea?” Silver turns his head to gaze at him. “I thought it was obvious.”

Flint licks his lips, staring at him, waiting for whatever Silver’s going to say.

Silver smiles faintly. “The gold, of course.” He turns his gaze back to the ceiling, and Flint studies his profile lined in the shadows cast by the lantern light. “You’re still my only hope of acquiring it.”

“I don’t mean to sound discouraging, but you are aware of our current predicament, right?”

“You’ll come up with something.” Silver tells him, and there’s a certainty in his voice that Flint doesn’t understand. How could he be so certain after what’s happened? Here they are, barely back aboard the ship and Silver acts like this is just another obstacle to overcome.

“Will I?” Flint murmurs.

Silver turns his head back to look at him once more. “That day you killed Singleton, and offered that paper to Billy with bloody, trembling hands, I knew you could tell a story based on whispers and smoke and they would all believe it.”

He places a hand on Flint’s thigh.

“Billy had to go along with it.” Flint points out.

“But he did.” Silver says. “That’s your power isn’t it? Swaying people, even if they have every right to disagree with you. Even if they know they should.”

Flint looks down at him as Silver moves his hand over to his crotch and still he doesn’t speak.

“I also pulled you from the water because I hadn’t had a chance to taste you yet.” Silver’s eyes are bright in the shadows. “And it would have been a pity for you to pass from this world without that happening.”

His fingers slip slowly inside Flint’s breeches with quiet purpose.

Still Flint doesn’t speak.

But now Silver’s waiting on him. He braces his arm on Flint’s thigh, resting his chin upon it as he watches him. “Do you want this?”

“It depends.” Flint says. “Why’re you offering it?”

Silver’s lips curve into a smile. “Because we’re in precarious waters. Because who knows what fate might hold in store once we get back to Nassau. Because I want to taste you.”

Probably he shouldn’t let him. Somehow Silver will use this to his advantage later on, but Flint’s weary of fighting everything. He aches from his bones to his brain, his body lonely for something to hold on to. It’s been a very long time since someone wanted to touch him. Someone with a mouth like Silver’s and blue eyes like the sea…

He acquiesces with a less than graceful shrug of his shoulders. “All right.”

Silver’s smile widens as he draws Flint out.

His mouth is so soft as he slips the head of Flint’s shaft between his lips, his tongue so warm and coaxing.

Flint shifts his good arm, bracing it against the wall as he succumbs to the gentle persuasiveness of Silver’s mouth.

Silver’s uttering soft noises around him, as he bobs his head slowly. Flint watches as his hair falls over his face. He thinks of what Silver had said up on deck after Dufresne had left them there. His confession that if their interests were adverse, he would have crossed him. And then Silver’s reiteration that he intended to reclaim his captaincy, take control of the ship and return for the gold.

_And I think you’re going to need my help to do it._

Flint hadn’t responded then, just stood there in the dark, gazing out at the waves until Silver gave up and went below deck.

He’s not wrong. That’s the truth of the matter. What’s even stranger is that in his mind Flint has already accepted this. For whatever reason (the gold, he  _knows_ it’s the gold, but it’s not just the gold) Silver is the only man aboard this ship who doesn’t want him dead.

Judging by the enjoyment with which Silver’s sucking his cock, Flint would even go so far as to venture that Silver might even want more than that.

The familiar tightening in his balls, the low heat rising in his cock, such familiar signs that Flint hasn’t felt in a while, it takes him a moment to remember to be courteous. He tries to ease him off, but Silver ignores him. He gives a little shake of his head, sliding Flint further down his throat.

Flint reaches for his hair, tangling a handful of curls around his fingers. He gives a little tug and Silver looks at him dead on.

Flint raises an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly, asking wordlessly if this is really what Silver wants. Silver just smiles around his cock and Flint’s breath catches in his throat. Silver so clearly wants Flint to come in his mouth, so he does, hips twitching with each thrust inside Silver’s heat.  

When he’s finally done, Flint just lies there, trying to regain his equilibrium as Silver returns to his former position laying alongside him.

Flint moves a hand towards Silver’s crotch.

“You don’t have to.” Silver says.

Flint shrugs, sliding his hand down into his breeches. “I know I don’t have to.”

He can’t do what Silver did, not tonight, not with his shoulder, but he gets his hand inside Silver’s breeches and strokes him in hot, rough strokes until Silver comes as well, panting with the rush of it, his head falling against Flint’s good shoulder. His curls spill over Flint’s shirt and Flint huffs a breath to keep them from tickling his nose.

Silver’s certainty sweeps over him. He’ll take back the ship, he’ll get the crew to follow him, and they’ll go after the gold. The plan for Nassau isn’t lost yet.

He gives one last squeeze to Silver’s cock and removes his hand, wiping it on the pallet.

Silver murmurs something indecipherable, already drowsy with sleep.

Flint closes his eyes. He feels Silver moving closer, arms creeping tentatively around Flint, holding him.

He shouldn’t allow Silver to do this either. This is too intimate, but Flint’s still weary, if his body feels more relaxed than it has in years. So he lets himself be held, let’s Silver’s breath warm his shoulder.

In the morning he’ll come up with a plan. Silver’s right. He has every intention of becoming a captain again. And he’s not sorry to have Silver at his side.  Maybe he’s even grateful.

The last thing Flint does before he falls asleep is lean in to whisper three words very quietly into Silver’s hair. “You’re not wrong.”

Whether Silver hears them or not, Flint doesn’t know. What he does know is Silver’s body resting against his, warm and strong and safe, lulls him off to sleep.


End file.
